I am watching the clock. I want to record the sound of the bells at 5pm.

The light begins to dim in the sky and brighten in the gauntlet of skyscraper windows that dot the jagged edge of horizon that is my back yard. My body is still not sure about being perched so high in the sky. I make drawings of angels with very long skinny wings that drag on the ground and I imagine them sitting on the tops of those buildings, then getting up and jumping from building top to top, as if it were their playground.

I would be happy if the crows would come to my balcony.